


Memories

by radioactive_storm (storm_aurora)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Amnesia, Coma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Liberal Application of Infinity Stones, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_aurora/pseuds/radioactive_storm
Summary: When Tony snapped his fingers and saved the universe, there were consequences. Instead of losing his life, he lost an arm...and his memories. And Peter Parker may be the only person who can help him get them back.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 51
Kudos: 119
Collections: IronDad Four Tags Challenge





	1. Memories Lost

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Irondad and Spiderson Discord server's four tag challenge!! Amnesia is hands-down one of my favorite tropes, so I'm super excited to share this with you all. Enjoy! ♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Daisy ([notapartytrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapartytrick/pseuds/notapartytrick)) for beta reading this for me!

To Peter, it’s been four days since the end of the world.

Four days since he and Dr. Strange and Big Peter and his friends turned to dust on an alien planet. Three days since Mr. Stark snapped his fingers while wielding the Infinity Stones to defeat the alien army that was trying to destroy the Earth. Two days since the Wakandan doctors came out of the operating room and reported that Mr. Stark had survived but his arm had not. One day since Peter had met Morgan Stark, living proof that what felt like four days to him was five years to the rest of the world.

Today, Peter finds himself alone at Mr. Stark’s bedside for the first time. May is taking Morgan for a walk, Happy is taking a nap on a real bed and convinced Mrs. Potts to take one too, and Colonel Rhodes is…well, Peter doesn’t know. He didn’t think to ask. Some of the other Avengers will pop in from time to time, but for now, Peter can relish in the fact that he’s finally getting some private time with Mr. Stark, just like old times.

Well…it’s just like old times,  _ if _ he ignores the ugly red scars on the side of Mr. Stark’s face and the pallor of the rest of his skin and the missing arm on the other side of his body and the IV and the machines and tubes and wires and – and – and the fact that Mr. Stark is almost completely still, deep in a coma, from which the doctors don’t know when he’ll wake up.

So, maybe not  _ exactly _ like old times.

Still, that doesn’t mean Peter can’t pretend a little bit.

“May and I ran into Mr. Quill this morning. You remember him, right? That Star-Lord guy we met in space. Apparently he found his girlfriend, but not really? She came here from the past, before she ever met him. She doesn’t know Mr. Quill at all.”

If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s just walking into Mr. Stark’s lab in the Compound, finding the man hard at work on upgrading the Iron Man armor.

“I can’t imagine what that would be like, seeing someone you know who doesn’t remember you at all. I mean, I guess if you weren’t very close, it wouldn’t be that surprising. Who could remember every person they’ve ever met, right? But your own  _ girlfriend _ not remembering you…well, I can’t speak from experience, because I’ve never had a girlfriend. But I’m sure that’s gotta be hard.”

Mr. Stark probably isn’t paying attention, because he has more important things to worry about than the thoughts and musings of a random teenager from Queens, but he’s at least letting Peter ramble on without interrupting him. That’s always nice.

“You have a girlfriend, though. Er, you used to, anyways. I guess she’s your wife now. Huh. I was kinda hoping…I mean, I didn’t  _ expect _ an invitation, obviously, but…well, I thought I’d at least be around for your wedding. When you first got engaged, uh, we weren’t really close enough that it would be appropriate for me to congratulate you. But I wanted to be one of the first to congratulate you after your wedding. That, uh, didn’t work out. Clearly.”

It feels good to unload some of these things to someone else, even if he doesn’t get a response. Peter can still let himself pretend he’s listening. He can let himself pretend that he cares.

“It’s – it’s a dumb thing to want, I know. But I just – getting married is a pretty big milestone, y’know? Growing up I heard stories from other kids about getting to go to their family members’ weddings and stuff, but I never really had much of an extended family to do much of that with. May’s an only child, Ben and my dad just had each other, and…I don’t really know much about my mom’s side of the family, to be honest. But I never had any aunts or uncles or cousins or siblings or any family to get married and go to their wedding…not – not that I’m insinuating we’re family or anything! It’s just…” Peter sighs. “I missed a lot of stuff, Mr. Stark. It’s like missing a day of school and having a bunch of make-up work to do, except instead of one day, it’s five years. And now I have all this catching up to do on my own so I can keep up with everyone else, and it’s just…a lot.”

Peter doesn’t know for sure if Mr. Stark understands what he’s saying. He’s heard that people in comas can hear what’s going on around them, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Mr. Stark will remember it when he wakes up. But that’s okay with Peter.

“Congratulations on the wedding, Mr. Stark.”

It’s not like Mr. Stark would really care about any of this, anyways.

For the next hour, Peter rambles on about anything that crosses his mind. It’s not that much different than the way he does it when someone else is visiting Mr. Stark, but he doesn’t bother to filter himself the way he would if he knew someone else was listening. He’s just in the middle of recounting the time that he had to hide a particularly nasty knife wound from May before she’d found out about his secret identity when suddenly the door opens and the woman herself walks in, accompanied by Morgan.

“Hi, honey,” May says, stopping a couple feet away from Mr. Stark’s bed. Morgan buries her face in May’s skirt; she’s never seemed comfortable with the sight of Mr. Stark recovering in a hospital bed. That’s why the adults always try to keep her occupied outside the room. “Anything exciting happen while we were gone?”

Peter shakes his head.

“Figured as much,” May says with a shrug. “Hey, do you mind playing with Morgan for a little bit? Rhodey’s still in his meeting, and I’d like a little time with Tony.”

Peter blinks. May had gradually warmed up to the idea of Peter working with Mr. Stark over time, but the last he checked she still wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. May had been turned to dust just like him, so she and Mr. Stark couldn’t have gotten closer over the five years that Peter was gone. So…it seems strange to him that May would want to spend time at Mr. Stark’s bedside.

“But…” Peter starts, glancing back over his shoulder at Mr. Stark.

“It’ll be fine, Peter,” May assures him, stepping closer so she can ruffle his hair. “Nothing’s gonna change just because you leave the room for a few minutes. Why don’t you go stretch your legs and grab a little snack in the break room down the hall? The staff have been great about keeping those cabinets well-stocked. Sound good?”

“Okay,” Peter says reluctantly.

“Thanks, baby,” May beams, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Larb ya.”

“Larb you too,” Peter replies, May’s goofy pun causing the corners of his lips to twitch upwards into a smile. He stands up, and Morgan finally pulls her face away from May so that she can grab Peter’s hand. “You hungry?”

“I want ice cream.”

“Um…we’ll see what they have.”

* * *

They do not have ice cream in the break room.

Morgan is incredibly distraught about this fact for about five minutes, leaving Peter to awkwardly attempt to console a crying four-year-old. Finally, he manages to get her to calm down by offering her a piece of chocolate he found in one of the cabinets.

He takes a bag of grapes out of the fridge for himself and sits on the edge of a table to eat them. Morgan climbs onto a chair and then the table so she can join him. Peter knows he probably shouldn’t be doing this and letting Morgan pick up bad habits, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care. They eat in silence, letting their legs dangle above the floor.

This probably isn’t exactly what May meant by “stretch your legs”, but Peter doesn’t want to go anywhere else. Here, he’s still close enough to the room that he’ll be able to get there quickly if Mr. Stark starts to wake up. If he focuses enough, he can even hear what May’s saying to Mr. Stark. He doesn’t think he should be eavesdropping, though, so he doesn’t.

It doesn’t take very long for Morgan to get bored of doing nothing but sitting on the edge of a table. “Peterrrrr, I’m bored,” she announces, sliding off the table and onto the floor. She folds her arms and looks up at Peter expectantly, a pose that makes her look scarily similar to her mother.

“Okay,” Peter says. “We can play a game.”

He stares at Morgan for a few moments, hoping she’ll suggest something. His mind is totally blanking on two-player games that little kids enjoy. Fortunately, she does have a game in mind. Unfortunately, the game she has in mind isn’t exactly the greatest game to play indoors.

“Tag! You’re it!” she announces, slapping Peter’s knee. Then she sprints out of the break room.

“Wha– Morgan!” Peter shouts, sliding off the table and racing after her.

For a four-year-old, Morgan is surprisingly fast. By the time Peter gets out of the break room, she’s already halfway down the corridor that leads away from Mr. Stark’s room. If Peter put his mind to it, he could easily catch up to Morgan in a few seconds. But the corridors of the Wakandan palace’s medical ward are devoid of both people and objects that Morgan could run into, so he thinks it’s okay to let her run around the hallways until she tires herself out. Peter keeps up a steady jog so that Morgan can stay in his line of sight.

When she pushes through a set of double doors, though, Peter quickens his pace – he doesn’t think that’s in the medical wing anymore. Sure enough, the hallway on the other side is lined with windows on one side and conference rooms on the other. The lights are off and the doors shut for most of the conference rooms, but there’s one conference room at the end of the hallway that has an open door, and voices coming from the inside. Peter doesn’t focus on them long enough to understand what they’re saying.

“Morgan, stop!” Peter hisses. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be here.”

Morgan giggles. “You gotta catch me first, Peter!”

“Morgan!” Peter hisses again, trying to make his voice sound more commanding. He’s doing a full-out sprint now. Hopefully, he can make it to Morgan before she gets too close to the open door…

Or, maybe she’ll just run straight into the conference room.

Peter dashes in after her and freezes. Inside, all the remaining Avengers are gathered, along with Dr. Strange, Mr. Quill, and practically everyone who participated in the battle at the compound. Most of the eyes in the room are on him, but some people are looking at Colonel Rhodes – Morgan, it seems, had run straight to him.

“Um…hey,” Peter says, folding his arms and trying to be cool. He tries to lean against the doorframe, but he misjudges how close he is to it and stumbles backwards, slamming his back into it instead. “What’s going on in here?”

“We’re discussing what to do with the Infinity Stones,” Dr. Strange says curtly, turning around to face the table. When he shifts, Peter can see a case lying open on the table that he didn’t notice before.

“Whoa. Cool,” Peter says, stepping forward to take a closer look.

But Dr. Strange’s arm shoots out to stop him before he can get close enough to actually see the stones. Peter barely has enough time to look at Dr. Strange in bewilderment before Colonel Rhodes speaks. “Let the kid look, Stephen. He’s just as much of an Avenger as any of us.”

Dr. Strange eyes Peter appraisingly. “Right. Spider… _ man _ ,” he says drily. But he lowers his arm, allowing Peter to approach the table and look into the case.

The six Infinity Stones are lying inside, arranged in a circle and padded with foam. They glow faintly with energy, their crystalline shells sparkling from the emitted light. While they don’t look like much, Peter knows that they hold unimaginable cosmic power.

“So, um…which one is which?” Peter asks.

Dr. Strange points to the green stone. “I assume you remember that’s the Time Stone,” he says. “That’s the Power Stone, the Space Stone, the Mind Stone, the Reality Stone, and the Soul Stone.” He points to the purple, blue, yellow, red, and orange stones in turn as he says each name.

“And they each…control those aspects of reality?”

“Correct. Don’t touch,” the doctor snaps. His cloak swats Peter’s hand away from the case. “These are incredibly powerful and dangerous objects. A human could die from touching one of these.”

Peter pulls his hands back to his chest. He’s had enough dying for a lifetime.

“These versions of the stones were actually taken from the past,” Captain America adds. “We’ll need to return them back to the times they were taken from. We were just discussing when that should happen.”

“Why does it matter when you take them back?” Peter wonders. “If you’re traveling back to a certain point in time, it shouldn’t matter whether that trip happens tomorrow or two weeks from now.”

“Because the presence of Infinity Stones that did not originate in this dimension endangers the very fabric of our reality,” Dr. Strange declares. “The fabric of this universe was altered when Thanos destroyed the stones five years ago so that it could survive without the Infinity Stones to hold it together. The existence of a brand-new set of Infinity Stones is putting a strain on that reworked fabric, and given enough time, the fabric of reality will begin to stretch and tear until eventually, it will completely unravel.”

“I didn’t understand a single word of what you just said,” Mr. Quill says. “Anyone else? Is that just me?”

“Think about it this way,” says an Asian man that Peter doesn’t recognize. But judging by his robe and the fact that sparkly golden strings appear in the air as he moves his hands, Peter guesses that he’s a wizard like Dr. Strange. The strings begin to weave together in midair to create something like a sweater, and six rainbow-colored buttons are threaded into it. “Imagine the fabric of reality is like this sweater. The Infinity Stones are like the buttons holding the sweater closed. When the stones are destroyed” – the buttons vanish, but the strings begin to rethread themselves so that the sweater stays closed – “the fabric of reality can adjust to that. But if you try to reintroduce the stones into reality” – the buttons reappear and start pushing themselves into the holes that they used to inhabit – “the fabric of reality cannot repair itself and gets torn instead.” The buttons break the strings that had been holding the sweater together, and the whole thing falls apart and fades.

“I would estimate that we have at most two weeks until we begin to see tears in the fabric of reality,” Dr. Strange concludes. “We sorcerers may be able to hold it together a little longer once it begins to tear, but I sincerely hope that the stones will be returned before it gets that far.” Dr. Strange slams the case shut, making everyone’s gaze jump to him. “Do I make myself clear?”

A murmur of assent goes around the room. However, it’s undercut by a high-pitched giggle. Before Peter can finish processing what that means, Morgan sprints out from behind Col. Rhodes, shrieking, “You can’t catch me!”

“Morgan!” Peter shouts, exasperated. He dashes out of the conference room, leaving the meeting of Avengers behind.

It isn’t until that night that Peter stops to wonder why he hadn’t even been told that the Avengers were having a meeting in the first place.

* * *

Peter chases Morgan around the palace for a while longer, until she finally runs out of energy and allows Peter to pick her up. He heads back to Mr. Stark’s room, but Morgan is fast asleep with her head resting on Peter’s shoulder by the time they reach the entrance to the medical wing.

When they reach the hallway that Mr. Stark’s room is on, it’s completely empty aside from May. It’s a little odd to see her outside the room if she’s not playing with Morgan – the room is plenty big enough for her to sit inside even when other people are visiting. Peter quickens his pace. When May notices him approaching, she beckons towards him, and Peter sprints over to her.

“What’s going on? Did something happen?” he asks breathlessly.

May nods. “He’s just waking up.”

A pang of regret stabs Peter’s heart; after all the times that Mr. Stark was sitting by his bedside when he woke up in the medical bay, he wanted to be there for his mentor in return. However, the feeling is quickly overwhelmed by the wave of relief that washes over him, knowing that Mr. Stark is alive and awake. He’s going to be okay.

Peter hesitates in the doorway, seeing Mrs. Potts and Colonel Rhodes and Happy and all the Avengers crowded inside. They’ve all known Mr. Stark a lot longer than him, and – and he doesn’t want to wake up Morgan, and – and maybe he should stay outside with May. But then May gives him a friendly little shove, and Peter stumbles into the room, his aunt following behind.

A couple of people glance over at Peter and May as they enter, but their attention quickly shifts back to Mr. Stark. The man is blinking blearily and looking at everyone around the room. Peter slips in beside Captain America and Thor so he can have a clearer view of Mr. Stark.

“Hi, honey,” Mrs. Potts says gently, taking Mr. Stark’s hand. He looks down at their enjoined hands, and his brow furrows in confusion. “How are you feeling?”

Mr. Stark continues to stare at her hand for a few moments. Eventually, he looks up and asks, “Where am I?”

“We’re in a hospital in Wakanda,” Mrs. Potts answers patiently. “Do you remember what happened?”

Mr. Stark shakes his head. Peter’s stomach clenches.

“You saved us, sir,” he blurts out. “Y-you snapped your fingers and saved everyone.”

“Did I?” Mr. Stark says, raising an eyebrow and staring intently at Peter. “What am I, like, a god or something?”

“No, Tony. You’re a hero,” Captain America says solemnly.

Mr. Stark purses his lips. He’s still staring at Peter, though, and Peter fidgets under his scrutiny. He doesn’t know what his mentor is looking for.

Colonel Rhodes is the first one to break the silence. “Do you remember who  _ you _ are?”

“Uh, sure,” Mr. Stark says. “I’m Tony.”

“Tony who?” Colonel Rhodes presses.

Mr. Stark looks up at the ceiling, as if he’ll find his last name written there. Peter chances a look at Colonel Rhodes, then Happy, then Mrs. Potts. They all have grim countenances. Eventually, when Mr. Stark still hasn’t said a word, Mrs. Potts asks softly, “Tony, what  _ do  _ you remember?”

Mr. Stark scoffs. “I think it’d be easier to tell you what I  _ don’t _ remember.”

“Okay, so what  _ don’t _ you remember?”

He wriggles his hand out of Mrs. Potts’ grip and holds up three fingers. “I don’t remember who I am. I don’t remember saving anyone. And I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in this hospital bed.”

Mr. Stark’s words hang ominously in the oppressive silence of the recovery room. Peter feels it weighing down on him as he tries to wrap his mind around the fact.  _ Amnesia? _ He had assumed that once Mr. Stark woke up, everything would be okay. This, though? His throat feels dry, and he swallows nervously.  _ This  _ is just about as far from okay as things can get.

Mr. Stark slowly gazes around at the stunned faces that surround him. He grimaces and admits, “I don’t recognize any of you.” Then he looks at Peter. “But, you…your voice is familiar.”

“M-mine?” Peter stammers.

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. “No, I was talking to that little girl sleeping on your shoulder.”

Peter winces. “It’s just – I mean – why  _ mine _ ?”

“I haven’t the foggiest idea. I don’t even know who you are,” Mr. Stark says matter-of-factly, unaware of how those words grip Peter’s heart like a claw and squeeze it until it aches. “You can answer that question much better than I can.”

Peter opens his mouth to respond but quickly closes it again. Where does he even begin to explain who he is? With Spider-Man, and the fake internship? Or the real internship borne out of it? To him, Mr. Stark is lab days and super-suits, safety protocols and mission back-ups. But what is he to Mr. Stark?

Nothing, now, because Mr. Stark doesn’t even remember him.

“Hang on,” Colonel Rhodes says. “Before we all start recounting our life stories for Tony, we should get a doctor or nurse in here to check him out. This might just be temporary.”

“Already on the way,” Happy says. “I hit the call button as soon as he started talking.”

Colonel Rhodes nods, then looks back at Mr. Stark. “You still never answered Pepper’s first question,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

Mr. Stark shrugs with his good shoulder. “Fine,” he says. “Right side aches a little.”

Colonel Rhodes nods. “That’s what we expected.”

There’s a knock on the doorframe, and a young Wakandan man walks in. He’s not wearing scrubs or a pharmaceutical coat, but he walks in with a clipboard and smiles down at Mr. Stark, so Peter guesses that he’s a doctor or nurse. “I’m glad to see you awake, Mr. Stark,” the young man says.

Mr. Stark smirks and looks at Colonel Rhodes. “There you go. My name’s Tony Stark.”

“Astute deduction, Sherlock,” Colonel Rhodes replies drily. Mr. Stark’s brow furrows.

“What seems to be the problem?” asks the nurse.

“He’s got amnesia,” Happy answers. “Didn’t even know his own name until we told him.”

The nurse frowns. “Do you know what year it is?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do you know who your president is?”

“What’s a president?”

The nurse hums and makes a note on his clipboard. “I’ll go talk to the princess and Dr. Nyong’o,” he says. “I imagine they’ll want to run some tests. For now, Mr. Stark, I suggest you get some rest.”

The nurse leaves, and the visitors begin to follow suit to give Mr. Stark some peace and quiet. Colonel Rhodes whispers something to Pepper and the two of them, along with Happy, get up to leave; May starts to usher Peter out. Then Mr. Stark’s words make him pause. “Hold up, kid.”

_ Kid. _

The word makes Peter’s traitorous heart skip a beat. It’s the same old nickname that Mr. Stark had used to address Peter all the time, but it lacks any of the fondness or exasperation or any emotion at all that Peter was used to hearing through the word. It’s said flatly, impassively. The same way he might say it to a stranger. Because that’s what Peter is to him, now. But there’s still that tiny little spark of hope in him that whispers,  _ maybe he remembers.  _ That tiny little spark of hope that he tries not to let color his voice as he turns around and says, “Yeah, Mr. Stark?”

“You, c’mere,” Mr. Stark says, beckoning him with a finger. “Everyone else, out.”

Peter hesitates, glancing at Morgan. She’s blessedly still asleep, but his arm and hip are starting to get tired of holding her for so long. Thankfully, Mrs. Potts – ever the observant one – takes Morgan from him without him even having to ask. “Thank you, Peter,” she whispers to him before she goes.

Unshed tears glisten in the corners of her eyes.

Peter tries not to feel guilty about the fact that Mr. Stark asked  _ him _ to stay behind instead of Mrs. Potts or any of his closer friends. A solid stone of guilt settles in the pit of his stomach anyways. He approaches Mr. Stark’s bed.

“Cute kid,” Mr. Stark comments, rolling his head in the direction of the door. “She looks like you. Is she your sister?”

“O-oh, no,” Peter stutters, shaking his head. “She’s just…er, I was just…playing with her, earlier.”

“Mm.” Mr. Stark turns his head to look at Peter. He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing Peter again. Eventually, he asks, “Are you mine?”

“W-what?”

“Are you my son?” Mr. Stark repeats. He’s still giving Peter that unnerving, analytical stare. Peter tries to answer him, but his vocal cords seem to have tightened up too much for him to speak. Mr. Stark – thinks Peter is – his  _ son _ ?

Mr. Stark’s frown deepens, and he looks away from Peter. “No,” he says. “At least, I hope not. No kid of mine should be that nervous about their dad remembering them.”

Peter swallows, feeling his body relax a little. “Um – you’re right,” he answers. “I – I’m just your intern. Morgan – that little girl I was holding – she’s your daughter.”

“Intern,” Mr. Stark muses. “You’ll have to remind me what exactly that is. I remember the vague idea, but not specifically…how it relates.”

“Um…an intern is, like, a student who’s working for someone else to gain job experience,” Peter explains. “It’s a little different than a regular employment because interns usually don’t get paid.”

Mr. Stark blinks. “An intern is – a student? Like – someone who goes to school?”

“Right,” Peter says.

His brow furrows, and he looks down and away from Peter. “I must’ve hit my head harder than I thought,” he says apprehensively. “I was sure that an intern was some kind of family member.”

Peter shakes his head slowly, feeling a lump form in the back of his throat. If Mr. Stark’s amnesia is so bad that he can’t even remember the proper definitions of words – he really, really hopes it’s temporary. He doesn’t know how any of them will be able to deal with this if it’s permanent.

“Um, I…I should let you get some rest now,” Peter forces out. “I’ll…I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Mr. Stark says distantly.

Peter slips out of the room and into the hallway, where May is waiting for him. He takes one look at her face, full of love and sorrow, and the tears that he’d been able to keep at bay come rushing out in full force. “Come here, baby,” May whispers, and Peter collapses into her arms. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Inside, Peter knows she’s just saying that to make him feel better. There’s no way that this can turn out  _ okay _ if Mr. Stark’s memories are lost forever.

But Peter can still let himself pretend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of this fic is planned out but not written yet, and I don't know when it will be. Comments make great motivation :)


	2. Memories Gained

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, huge thanks to Daisy ([notapartytrick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapartytrick/pseuds/notapartytrick)) for beta reading this chapter for me. Your suggestions definitely allowed me to improve it!

That night, Peter lies on the big, plush, king-size bed in the middle of the bedroom that he and May are sharing while May herself gets ready for bed in the bathroom. He’s grateful to King T’Challa for providing rooms in the palace for everyone so they can stay close to Mr. Stark, but the palace doesn’t have his phone or a computer or free Wi-Fi so that he can start trying to catch up on the five years he missed – or even check current news to see how the rest of the world is dealing with the sudden return of half the population. May had brought her phone, but no service and no Wi-Fi means that it’s basically useless for anything except being an alarm clock and playing Mahjong.

He can’t even call Ned. God, _Ned_. Peter doesn’t know anything about what happened to his best friend. Was he snapped out of existence, too, or did he stay and live on for five years without Peter? Does Ned even know that Peter came back? If he stayed, and all went well, he would have graduated college by now. It’s terrifying to think about. Peter’s trying not to, but Mahjong can only keep his brain distracted for so long. What about MJ, and Abe, and Cindy, and hell, even Flash? Statistically speaking, two of them should have stayed. If Flash was one of those, it would mean that Peter won’t have to put up with him in school anymore. But knowing Peter’s luck, Flash probably got snapped, too.

A knock on the door jolts Peter out of his thoughts. He looks up from his game and waits a moment to see if May will answer before calling out, “Come in.”

The door slides open and Colonel Rhodes steps inside. “Hey, Spider-Teen,” he greets him.

“Hi, Colonel Rhodes,” Peter says. “Um, what are you doing here?”

“You guys weren’t around to talk to the doctors, so I figured I’d fill you in,” he answers. “Is your aunt around?”

“In the bathroom,” Peter says, nodding in that direction.

“I’ll be out in a second!” May calls. Only a few seconds later, May emerges from the bathroom wearing a nice bathrobe that had been provided with the room. “You talked to the doctors? They finished the testing already?” she asks, taking a seat on the bed beside Peter.

“Not yet,” Colonel Rhodes says. “So far they’ve just done some basic cognitive tests to check his memory. He’s not having any trouble creating new memories, so that’s good. But, he failed all the long-term memory tests. He doesn’t even remember anything from when he was a kid, which they said is really unusual in retrograde amnesia.”

Peter gulps. “Does that mean his memories won’t come back?”

Colonel Rhodes sighs. “I’m not gonna sugar-coat it, kid. It’s not looking promising at this point. But we won’t know for sure ‘til the docs do some brain scans. They’ll tell us the results in the morning.”

He puts one hand on Peter’s shoulder and one hand on May’s, looking between the two with a firm countenance. “No matter what they say tomorrow, we’ll get through this together. I promise.”

Peter nods, feeling May take his hand and give it a little squeeze. Colonel Rhodes removes his hands from their shoulders and makes to leave. However, there’s one other thing that’s been on Peter’s mind tonight, and he figures Colonel Rhodes is as good a person as any to answer it.

“Colonel Rhodes,” Peter says, causing the man to pause and turn back to him. “Do you, um…you know how there was that Avengers meeting earlier today, to talk about the Infinity Stones? Do you know why, uh, I wasn’t invited to it?”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Pete,” Colonel Rhodes says, running a hand over his face. “I was supposed to let you know about it, but with everything that’s been going on, it just slipped my mind. But to be fair, it was just a lot of standing around and talking. You didn’t miss much.”

“Oh,” Peter says quietly, letting his gaze fall to the ground. “Okay.”

Colonel Rhodes bids them goodnight, and Peter manages a half-hearted response before flopping back down on the bed. Sure, he didn’t miss much at the meeting. Just the chance to talk to all the Avengers and their allies and be seen as their equal. Instead, they all got to see him as an irresponsible babysitter who disrupted their meeting. Peter rolls over so he can bury his face in his pillow as a bitter thought floats into his brain.

_Mr. Stark wouldn’t have forgotten to tell me about the meeting._

* * *

The next morning, Peter goes to visit his mentor first thing.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” he says, walking into the room. Mr. Stark is propped up on some pillows and doing something on a tablet – probably something their hosts had provided him with. He looks up at Peter’s voice.

“Hey, Intern,” he says with a smile.

“I-Intern?”

“You said you’re my intern.”

“Y-yeah, but…” Peter trails off, unsure how to finish his thought. On the one hand, Mr. Stark giving him a dumb nickname is very typical for him, and it reminds Peter that the old Mr. Stark isn’t all gone just because his memories are. On the other hand, accepting a new nickname from him would mean acknowledging that the old nicknames are gone. Should he tell Mr. Stark that he usually just called him “kid”, or “Underoos”, or “Spider-Kid”, when he has no idea what the history behind those names is? Or should he just accept the new nickname and move on?

Mr. Stark hums thoughtfully. “I agree, it’s a little bland,” he says. “I’ll keep workshopping it.” He raises an eyebrow at Peter. “Or, you could tell me what your name actually is?”

Peter blinks. “Did I not – uh, I didn’t tell you yesterday?” He racks through his memories of the conversation, and he realizes with a little embarrassment that he had never actually mentioned his name. “I, um. I’m Peter.”

“Peter,” Mr. Stark repeats, looking away as if to test the feel of the word in his mouth. “Peterrrr. Yeah, that suits you,” he says, returning his gaze to Peter. “So, what are you doing here this fine morning, Peter? Thought the doctors were giving the rundown on my test results right now.”

“They are,” Peter says, fidgeting with his hands. “But, I’m not…I mean, they just want to talk to _close_ family, right? And like, someone has to keep you company,” he adds, forcing out an awkward laugh.

“Yeah, I’m a lonely old man with nothing to do but lie around in bed all day and wait for someone to break the bad news to me, so–”

“We don’t know for sure that it’s going to be bad news,” Peter interjects.

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow. “If the test results showed anything good, the doctors wouldn’t be sharing ‘em in a separate room where I can’t overhear.”

Peter winces, knowing that Mr. Stark is right but still wishing he could cling to the childish hope that everything will be okay. His reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by Mr. Stark. “Was that too frank? My bad, little P.”

Now Peter is cringing for an entirely different reason. “That’s even worse than ‘Intern’. Please never call me that again.”

Mr. Stark laughs, drawing a shy smile from Peter. He takes a seat on the chair next to Mr. Stark’s bed and tries to think of an innocuous conversation topic – something unrelated to the amnesia, or Spider-Man, or the last five years, or anything else that Mr. Stark wouldn’t know about because he can’t remember anything. That severely limits his options.

“So, Intern. Seen any good movies lately?” Mr. Stark asks.

Peter stares blankly at Mr. Stark for a few moments, blinking slowly. No, he hasn’t seen any recent movies because he’s been dead for the past five years. What about before the Snap? That was only a few days ago for him, but everything that had happened in those few days made it feel like a few years. Peter can barely remember what he’d been doing before Thanos’s minions arrived, let alone the last movie he watched. He racks his brain for any concrete memories he can tie to watching a movie – the last time he’d been to a theater, or the last time he’d bought tickets…

He knows that he had bought movie tickets online just a few days before their field trip to MoMA. It had been the night before the permission slip was due; he remembers asking May for her credit card at the same time that he asked her to sign the permission slip. He’d been texting with Ned that night too – they were coordinating to make sure that they got seats for the same showing at the same theater. But…why can’t he remember actually going to see the movie with Ned?

Then, like the final row of a Rubik’s Cube sliding into place, Peter remembers the last few details about those tickets. They were pre-ordered tickets for the midnight premiere of _Solo: A Star Wars Story_. It was going to hit theaters the Friday after their field trip. That meant…it had hit theaters a week after Thanos snapped his fingers and wiped out half of all life in the universe, including Peter.

“Peter?” A gentle hand rests on his shoulder, and Peter realizes that his eyes have started watering. “What’s going on?”

“I…” Peter swallows to try to get rid of the lump in his throat that’s making his voice sound weak and wavering, but it persists. “I missed _Solo_.”

“What?”

“ _Solo: A Star Wars Story_. I missed it, and Episode IX’s probably come out by now too,” Peter whispers, feeling a hot tear carve a path down his cheek. “And I – I don’t even know if Ned disappeared too, or if he had to go to the midnight premiere all by himself, and there’s just _so much_ that I missed, and–”

Peter’s voice breaks off with a wet sob. Tears are flowing freely down his face now, and he rubs at his eyes to try to stop them because it’s so stupid for him to get so worked up about such a _simple_ question. But all that does is get his palms wet so that when he rubs them over the dry parts of his face, they get wet too and now his whole face is wet and his vision is still blurry with tears.

“Hey, c’mere.” The gentle hand moves off his shoulder and to his back, then pulls him forwards until his head is resting against something solid. But the hand keeps tugging at him until he’s pulled completely out of the chair, his legs curled up on the bed. The arm connected to the hand is now wrapped around Peter’s back, keeping him firmly in place. Peter wraps his arms around the warm, solid chest in turn, closing his eyes and relishing in the comfort of physical touch.

They stay like that for a while, still and quiet aside from the occasional sob or sniffle. Finally, when Peter feels like he’s calmed down enough that he can speak without a lump in his throat, he murmurs, “’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, kiddo,” Mr. Stark says. “You needed it.”

Peter opens his eyes and becomes intimately aware of the fact that his face is still buried in Mr. Stark’s chest, and the man is rubbing a thumb up and down on Peter’s back. He pulls away abruptly, scrambling to the edge of the bed to create more distance between himself and Mr. Stark. He wraps his arms around himself and stares at the plain white bedspread like it’s hiding a secret treasure map that he can find if he looks hard enough.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Mr. Stark says drily. Peter jerks his head up to look at him in bewilderment. There’s a teasing grin on his face, but his brows are knitted together as if he’s concerned. “Feeling better?”

“I – uh, yeah,” Peter stammers. “That was…that was nice.”

Mr. Stark raises an eyebrow as if to say, _are you sure?_

Peter knows that he’s not acting like it. But he can’t help it. Mr. Stark doesn’t remember him – Peter’s practically a stranger to him. And yet he’s comforting Peter like…like a parent comforts their child. 

“I’m guessing we didn’t do much of that before I got my memories knocked out,” Mr. Stark finally says.

Peter nods timidly. The old Mr. Stark was always awkward in emotionally charged situations, and an arm slung over Peter’s shoulders was the most physical contact that he’d ever initiated with Peter. He would never have been so quick to offer comfort or so willing to give him a hug. 

“Shame on past me, then,” Mr. Stark declares with such authority that it doesn’t leave Peter any room to doubt whether Mr. Stark should have comforted him like that or not.

Maybe Peter likes this new version of Mr. Stark.

“Now,” he continues in a gentler tone, looking directly into Peter’s eyes, “can you tell me what that was about?”

“What do you mean?” Peter asks, swallowing hard.

“You said something about someone disappearing, and that you’d ‘missed’ a lot of things,” Mr. Stark says. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh. That,” Peter says, eyes flitting away from Mr. Stark’s for a moment. “Um, I – I don’t know if I should tell you? Because, like, it’s kind of a big thing and I think sometimes with memory loss they say you’re supposed to wait and let the memories come back on their own–”

“Intern–”

“–because it can mess with the healing or something and I don’t want to get your memories all messed up because I told you about Th…about all that stuff and besides it’s kinda–”

“Peter!” Mr. Stark says sharply. Peter’s mouth snaps shut. “You’re not going to ruin my brain, and I need to understand why you freaked out so I don’t cause it again. Tell me.”

Peter turns his head away from Mr. Stark, trying to organize his thoughts without having to stare at him the whole time. He takes a deep breath in and then exhales. Peter opens his mouth to speak, but he gets distracted by the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway. He twists around to face the doorway.

“What?” Mr. Stark asks.

Peter doesn’t need to answer, because a few seconds later Colonel Rhodes appears in the doorway. “Knock knock,” he says as he walks in. He’s followed by Mrs. Potts and Happy.

“Hey,” he says, sliding off the bed and starting to walk away. “Um, I’m just gonna go and let you–”

“No, no, no, you’re not,” Mr. Stark says, reaching out and snagging the hem of Peter’s shirt in his fingers. He tugs Peter back to the edge of the bed as he continues, “You are going to sit right here while these guys explain what the doctors said, and then _you_ have some explaining to do.”

Peter sits on the edge of the bed near Mr. Stark’s knees, feeling a little out of place. It isn’t just wanting an excuse to not have to tell Mr. Stark about Thanos that makes him want to leave. This is Mr. Stark’s _family_ , fixing to tell him whether or not he’ll ever be able to remember who they are and what they mean to him. It’s a private moment, and he doesn’t want to intrude on it.

Mr. Stark slips his hand under Peter’s and squeezes it. Peter glances over at him and notices that he has a grim expression on his face. For the first time, Peter wonders if Mr. Stark is as worried about the results of the tests as he is. In that case, maybe he has another motive for wanting Peter to stay – Peter is, somehow, the most familiar face to him right now. Peter squeezes Mr. Stark’s hand back.

“Well, lay it on me,” Mr. Stark declares. “What did they say?”

“Well,” Mrs. Potts begins, “there’s no evidence of brain damage or anything that would impact your ability to form new memories.”

“M’kay, that’s good. So why can’t I remember anything?”

“Space magic,” Colonel Rhodes deadpans.

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. “Hilarious. I’m rolling with laughter. Wanna try that again? A real answer this time.”

No one says anything.

“Come on, you can’t seriously expect me to believe that after all that testing, the best explanation you can come up with for why I developed amnesia is _space magic_.”

“There’s no other way to explain it, Tony,” Mrs. Potts says, shaking her head. “Your brain is perfectly healthy, but all the neurotransmitters that formed your old memories are just…gone.”

“So it’s like…the stones did a factory reset on his brain?” Peter asks.

“Pretty much,” Colonel Rhodes says grimly. “They don’t think there’s any chance of the neurotransmitters being able to re-form. So…you’re never going to be able to get your memories back. I’m sorry, Tones.”

Mr. Stark huffs. “Figured as much,” he says. But it doesn’t escape Peter’s notice that he’s looking away from everyone else. “So, what, you’re gonna give me the crash course on my life now?”

“Not unless you want it,” Mrs. Potts replies kindly. “You’re not going to get back 50 years’ worth of memories in a single day. The doctors said we should let you set the pace. So…ask us anything, and we’ll answer it for you.”

Peter wonders if he should leave now – he doesn’t know what knowledge he can contribute to this conversation. He’d only known Mr. Stark for two years; he won’t be able to remind him of anything that Mrs. Potts, Colonel Rhodes, or Happy don’t also know. But Mr. Stark’s hand is still wrapped around his, and Peter can’t bring himself to break that connection just yet.

“So…I’m 50 years old?” Mr. Stark asks.

“53,” Happy corrects. “Your birthday’s May 29th.”

“And…what day is it today?”

“October 26th, 2023.”

Mr. Stark grunts in acknowledgement as he processes the information. Peter, on the other hand, feels his heart ache as he realizes just how much Mr. Stark doesn’t know – not just about the world, but about _himself_. Part of him wants to just run – to let Mrs. Potts and Colonel Rhodes and Happy and everyone else take care of it so he doesn’t have to face the fact that Mr. Stark has lost his whole identity. But a larger part of him knows that Mr. Stark needs as many people in his corner as possible while he’s in such a vulnerable position, and Peter can’t shy away from that responsibility.

Is he necessary? Absolutely not. Will he still try to help as much as he’s able? Of course.

They start simple; Mrs. Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and Happy introduce themselves and briefly describe their relationship to Mr. Stark. Then, Mrs. Potts tells him a little about Morgan. Next, Mr. Stark asks how he ended up in the hospital in the first place, and they give him the simplest explanation: he wielded magic space rocks called Infinity Stones against an alien army that was trying to destroy the world, damaging most of the right side of his body in the process. Finally, Mr. Stark asks Peter to explain what the disappearing thing was about.

Peter wrings his hands nervously, wondering where he should start. As much as he’d rather let someone else explain what had happened, he knows that none of the other people in the room would be able to explain why it was so upsetting to Peter.

“Five years ago,” he finally begins, “there was this alien called Thanos who wanted to use the Infinity Stones to wipe out half of all life in the universe.”

“Any relation to the aliens who I stopped from destroying the planet?” Mr. Stark asks.

“Same guy,” Colonel Rhodes answers.

“Wow, he must be real popular at parties.”

“So, uh, he succeeded at doing that,” Peter continues. “And it took you guys five years to figure out how to bring everybody back. I was one of the people who disappeared, but…I – I don’t know if my best friend disappeared too or not.”

Mr. Stark frowns. “Kid, why didn’t you mention that earlier? I’m sure that there’s _somebody_ here who can find that out for you.”

“Your friends got snapped, too,” Happy says, contributing to the discussion for the first time since he introduced himself. Peter whirls around to stare at him. “Ned, and the scary girl…Michelle.”

“Happy? H-how do you know that?” Peter asks.

Happy shrugs, not meeting Peter’s eye. “I looked into it…a while ago.”

Peter wants to press him for more information, but Mr. Stark speaks up before he can. “Well, I guess you and I have something in common, Intern.”

“We do?” Peter says, looking back at him in confusion.

“Neither of us knows anything that happened in the last five years. What say we start catching up together?” Mr. Stark grabs the tablet off the side table and glances down at it. “How does… _The Bachelarry_ sound?”

“What the hell is _The Bachelarry_?”

“I dunno. Let’s find out.”

* * *

_The Bachelarry_ , as it turns out, is a spin-off of _The Bachelor_ where all the candidates are named Larry. Mr. Stark thinks that just makes it confusing, but Peter thinks it makes it more fun. He’s rooting for the second Larry, but if the third Larry applies himself more, Peter can see him being a good fit for Ruth.

Mrs. Potts and Colonel Rhodes and Happy all leave during or after the first episode, but Peter stays at Mr. Stark’s side to continue watching the show with him. It reminds him of the movie nights they’d had up at the Compound last summer…or, at least, the last summer Peter had experienced. It’s comfortable. It’s familiar. It’s nice. In fact, it’s even better than last summer, because this time he’s curled up into Mr. Stark’s side, with the man’s arm wrapped around him.

Peter still doesn’t quite understand why this Mr. Stark is so affectionate towards him – is it really just because Mr. Stark thinks he’s familiar? He doesn’t know how he could seem familiar if his mentor really had lost all his memories. And surely, if his brain was going to hang on to vague memories of someone Mr. Stark cared about, it would pick someone more important than _Peter_.

Maybe his affection is because he doesn’t know he’s a billionaire; he doesn’t know he’s Iron Man. He doesn’t know that Peter is just a random kid that he only puts up with because he’s Spider-Man. The amnesia makes it a fresh start for all of them, a level playing field. And the fact that Mr. Stark thinks Peter is familiar – well, that just gives Peter a leg up when it comes to re-forming his relationships. Peter actually has a chance to become one of the most important people in Mr. Stark’s life.

Perhaps this amnesia thing won’t be so bad after all.

* * *

“We’re going to watch Star Wars today, Mr. Stark,” Peter declares as he enters the room.

“Star Wars?” Mr. Stark echoes.

“Yep. We need to start catching you up on pop culture, and Star Wars is like, the most classic pop culture there is.”

Mr. Stark purses his lips thoughtfully. “You mentioned something about a ‘Star Wars Story’ yesterday,” he says. “You a big fan?”

Peter laughs. “That’s a massive understatement.” He snatches the remote control tablet from Mr. Stark’s side table and types in the commands to pull up _A New Hope_ on the TV. Then, he assumes the same position that he did yesterday – curled up on Mr. Stark’s left side, and the movie begins to play.

“I wonder if we could get the doctors to bring us some popcorn,” Peter says as R2-D2 and C-3PO run for cover on the rebel ship.

“Popcorn?”

Peter tears his gaze away from the screen to balk at Mr. Stark. “You don’t remember what _popcorn_ is?”

“No, I know what it is,” Mr. Stark retorts. “But why popcorn? There are, like, a thousand kinds of junk food that taste better than popcorn. _And_ they don’t have those little kernels that get stuck in your teeth that you have to fish out with a toothpick.”

Peter clicks his tongue. “Popcorn is, like, _the_ movie snack, Mr. Stark. You can’t just have something _other_ than popcorn while you’re watching a movie.” Then he frowns. “Wait, how do you remember all that other stuff about popcorn but you _don’t_ remember that it’s the go-to snack when you’re watching movies?”

Mr. Stark chuckles and nudges Peter’s shoulder. “I’m just messin’ with you, P. I remember what popcorn is.”

* * *

Pepper and Morgan arrive just as they’re on the tail end of _Empire Strikes Back_ . Fortunately, they didn’t get there in time to hear Mr. Stark’s indignant “what the _fuck_!?” upon hearing Darth Vader tell Luke that he’s his father.

“Good riddance,” Mr. Stark mutters. “Let Han stay frozen in carbonite. He’s a…” His voice falters, noticing Morgan in the room for the first time.

“A scruffy-looking nerf herder?” Peter offers.

“Uh, yeah,” Mr. Stark says distractedly. He looks warily between Pepper and Morgan, and Peter can feel the tension in the air. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Pepper says with a small smile. Morgan, meanwhile, is still clinging to her mom’s legs, looking at her father with equal unease.

“Um, I should go,” Peter says quickly, sliding off the bed. “May is, uh, probably looking for me.”

He slips out of the room without looking back – hopefully, the atmosphere in the room will get less awkward when Peter’s not intruding. Maybe he’ll go bug Happy about what he knows about Ned and MJ.

* * *

“I made a list,” Mr. Stark announces.

“A list of what?” Peter asks, taking a seat on the bed beside him.

“Reasons why Darth Vader can’t be Luke’s father,” he answers, grabbing the tablet from the side table on the other side of the bed and passing it to Peter.

Peter stifles a laugh. “Oh, really?” Then he glances down at the tablet, and his smile falls. The notes app is open, and the list is handwritten in the messiest chicken scratch that Peter has ever seen. “Mr. Stark, I can’t read this.”

“That’s my handwriting, take it or leave it,” Mr. Stark says, but there’s a slight defensive edge to it. “Surely you’re used to it by now?”

“Did you use your left hand to write this?”

“No, I used my feet. Gotta work out those legs somehow.”

Peter turns to look at Mr. Stark, brow furrowing. He’s about to ask what the snark is all about when his gaze falls to the empty space on the bed on Mr. Stark’s opposite side. “Oh. Right.” He forgets about Mr. Stark’s missing arm, sometimes.

Mr. Stark looks at Peter curiously. “Was I right-handed?”

“Uh…yeah, you used to be,” Peter says. He feels awkward talking about Mr. Stark’s handedness in the past tense when the man is still alive and mostly well, even though he knows it’s technically correct. His right hand can’t be the dominant one if he doesn’t have a right hand.

“Ah, that explains it,” Mr. Stark says with a huff. “I was wondering why anyone would want to handwrite things when it was so difficult to do.”

“You didn’t stop and think that it felt…unnatural?”

“Figured it was normal for writing to feel awkward,” Mr. Stark shrugs. “I can’t remember anything else.”

“Oh,” Peter says quietly.

“Least there’s one good thing about this amnesia. I can’t miss having my right arm if I don’t remember ever having a right arm to begin with.”

They sit in silence for a few moments before Peter finally closes the notes app and brings up the remote control for the TV. “So, uh…ready to watch _Return of the Jedi_?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mr. Stark interrupts. “There was one thing I wanted to say before we watch this one.”

“What?”

“If Han stays frozen in carbonite the whole movie, I won’t mind at all. Luke and Leia make a cuter couple.”

Peter chokes on the air.

* * *

When Peter enters the room, he can tell it’s a bad day. Mr. Stark doesn’t sit up, smile at Peter, greet him with a “hey, Intern” or “hey, P” – his preferred new nicknames for him. The only sign that he even recognizes Peter has come in is that he turns his head to face the door.

“Mr. Stark, are you okay?” Peter asks worriedly, rushing over to his side.

“Just peachy,” Mr. Stark groans.

“Should I call a nurse? Maybe they can give you more painkillers?”

Mr. Stark makes a grunt of acknowledgement, and Peter quickly presses the call button. If Mr. Stark isn’t even fighting the need for help, it’s gotta be bad. “I’m sorry,” he whispers instinctively.

“Don’t be,” Mr. Stark says in an exhaled breath. “Just keep talking.”

“Huh?”

“I like…hearing your voice. Soothing.”

Peter blinks a couple of times. _That_ is new. Mr. Stark had never told him anything of the sort before. Usually when people comment on Peter’s talking, they say his voice is annoying or that he talks too much. This comment makes Peter’s chest feel warm.

“Okay. Uh…” Peter pauses to think as he takes a seat in the chair closest to Mr. Stark’s bed. He drums his fingers on the edge of the bed. “Uh, did I ever tell you that I used to do band in high school? I was a percussionist. Pretty solidly in the middle of the section as far as chair went, but it was fun. There was this one kid, though, who was _super_ clumsy and we always gave him a hard time about it…”

* * *

“Okay, so I’ve been wondering,” Mr. Stark says one day while Peter and Colonel Rhodes are visiting him. “Who _were_ all those people in the room when I woke up? Extended family or something?”

Colonel Rhodes shrugs. “You could call them that,” he says. “Or you could call them your teammates. They’re the group of superheroes who helped fight that alien army with you and save the world.”

“They’re called the Avengers,” Peter puts in. “Er – some of them are. Officially, that is. I think everybody who participated in the battle got honorary Avenger status, right, Colonel Rhodes?”

“Right,” Colonel Rhodes says. “We’re all official Avengers here, though.”

“Uh, n-n-no,” Peter stutters immediately. “I – I’m not an Avenger.”

Colonel Rhodes narrows his eyes at Peter, but thankfully doesn’t press the issue. “We’re all official Avengers here, except Peter,” he corrects. “Field promotion. Close enough,” he mutters under his breath, low enough that Mr. Stark can’t hear.

“Your superhero name is Iron Man. Colonel Rhodes’ is War Machine,” Peter says. “You both fly around in, uh, weaponized mech suits.”

“You probably won’t be doing much flying around now, though,” Colonel Rhodes comments, eyeing Mr. Stark’s missing arm.

Mr. Stark gives him a one-armed shrug. “Don’t need two arms to fly a weaponized mech suit.”

“Probably not for one of yours,” Colonel Rhodes says with an exasperated sigh. “Anyways, the rest of the team would really like the chance to visit you. What do you think?”

“Do I have to?” Mr. Stark asks disdainfully.

“Preferably,” Colonel Rhodes says. “C’mon, Tones, you’ve been hospitalized for over a week and your friends haven’t even gotten to talk to you at all because you won’t let them visit. That’s not fair to them, don’cha think?”

“Colonel Rhodes, wait,” Peter says, taking Mr. Stark’s hand and squeezing it gently. “The doctors said that we’re supposed to take it at his pace, remember? If Mr. Stark doesn’t want to see the other Avengers yet, we shouldn’t force him to.”

Between Peter and Mr. Stark’s pleading looks, Colonel Rhodes is quick to relent. “Fine. You win this round. But I still think you should let _some_ of them visit you soon. It may make _you_ feel better to stay here in your little clique, but…consider how that makes _them_ feel.”

Before Peter leaves that day, Mr. Stark whispers a quiet “thanks, kid” in his ear.

* * *

Happy’s visits prove to be the most dangerous for Peter. Happy has never been a very talkative person, so Mr. Stark has to probe him with questions to get information out of him. And once Mr. Stark exhausts all the easy questions to ask Happy, Peter becomes responsible for filling the silences in Happy’s visits.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Peter had spent hours talking about anything that came to mind to fill the silence while Mr. Stark was still in his coma, after all. Plus, out of all Mr. Stark’s close family, Happy is the person that Peter knows the most about – the man could be surprisingly talkative during those two-hour trips to the Compound and back. However, during Happy’s second visit, Peter decides to tell Mr. Stark about some of the weirdest situations that Happy had to bail him out of.

“So, Happy finally caves and lets me borrow his credit card so I can buy this homeless lady a hamburger, right? Which was technically still coming from your account, but whatever. So I go into the McDonald’s and I’m waiting in line to order when suddenly this guy comes in and tells everybody to give him their money. Like, seriously!” Peter exclaims, chortling. “This guy wants to stick up a place, and he decides to go to a _McDonald’s_? And he made such a scene of it, too. Waving his gun around, threatening to shoot somebody – it wasn’t even a real gun, just a little plastic thing. He would’ve had way more success if he was more subtle about it, y’know?”

“Peter, are you seriously critiquing how well a criminal held up a fast-food restaurant?” Mr. Stark says sternly, and Peter stops laughing to look at him. He has a weirdly concerned look on his face for something that happened years ago and didn’t even put anyone in danger. “You couldn’t have known that the gun was fake. You could have seriously been in danger.”

Peter chuckles. “Mr. Stark, I was _fine_ , I’m–”

The jovial expression drops from Peter’s face as he realizes exactly what the problem is.

Mr. Stark still doesn’t know about Spider-Man.

At first, it was just because Peter didn’t want to overwhelm him with information. He was still getting accustomed to the idea that he had an intern named Peter; he didn’t want to confuse him by adding that the internship had originally been a cover for his secret identity as a superhero, but that later they turned it into a real internship that Peter usually used as an opportunity to work on his superhero gear. But once Peter started saying that he’d tell Mr. Stark about it later, he continued to tell himself that he’d do it later, and later just kept getting pushed further and further back.

The thing is…there’s a part of Peter that doesn’t _want_ to tell Mr. Stark about Spider-Man. Spider-Man had been the foundation of their relationship originally, and Peter’s enjoyed getting to connect with him on a more personal level – one where superheroes don’t have anything to do with it. He likes the simplicity of just being Peter Parker, Stark intern, with no asterisks or caveats or strings attached.

But at the same time…Peter’s going to return to being Spider-Man eventually. He wants to still have Mr. Stark on his side as his superhero mentor when that time comes. In fact, he should probably tell him about Spider-Man sooner than that – when Mr. Stark has recovered enough to go home, he’ll surely start going through all the old files in his lab, and he doesn’t want Mr. Stark to find out from FRIDAY who all the spider-themed gear in there is designed for. He doesn’t want Mr. Stark to think that Peter has been lying to him. Which he hasn’t! He just…hasn’t told the whole truth yet.

Peter knows he needs to tell Mr. Stark about Spider-Man sooner rather than later. But _sooner_ still isn’t _now_.

“Exactly,” Mr. Stark says, evidently taking Peter’s silence as affirmation that he’s taking this seriously. “You are not immune to bullets, so please don’t act like it.”

Peter looks away from Mr. Stark to hide his smile. He had said almost the exact same thing one time while Peter had been recovering in the Compound’s medical bay from a gunshot wound, but he followed it almost immediately with the declaration that he was going to make Peter’s next suit bulletproof. Peter’s not completely sure because none of the aliens were using Earth guns, but he thinks the new suit that Mr. Stark gave him when they went to space _is_ bulletproof.

“So, what happened with the guy who tried to hold up the McDonald’s?” Mr. Stark finally asks.

Peter grins. “Okay, so, Happy decided that I was taking too long and he went to see what the holdup was, no pun intended…”

* * *

Somehow, despite the fact that they’ve both been in the same building the whole time, it takes Peter nearly two weeks to run into the princess of Wakanda.

Literally.

He just snagged a snickerdoodle from the plate of cookies someone had left in the break room and is turning back in the direction of Mr. Stark’s room when someone slams into him. The snickerdoodle arcs out of his hand while Peter falls to the ground.

“I am sorry,” the girl says as she helps Peter to his feet. “Are you alright?”

Clearly, she doesn’t comprehend the magnitude of the destruction that she just wrought, because it’s not Peter’s well-being that they need to be concerned about. “Where’s my snickerdoodle?” He glances around the floor around them until he sees the remains of the cookie – ripped in two, just like his heart. “No! My snickerdoodle!” he cries.

“It is just a snickerdoodle,” the snickerdoodle destroyer says, sounding mildly amused. “I am sure there are more left in the break room.”

“That was the last one,” Peter moans.

“You will survive,” she says, patting Peter on the shoulder.

Peter takes a moment to scrutinize her. She’s dark-skinned, with her hair pulled up into buns on either side of her head not unlike Princess Leia. Combined with her accent and the fact that he doesn’t recognize her, he guesses that she’s Wakandan, though he doesn’t know what Wakandan his age would be running around the palace. He decides the best way to find out is to ask. “Who are you?”

“You don’t recognize me?” The girl sounds a bit disappointed. “But I know who you are, Peter Parker.”

“Well, uh…I’ve been…” _Spending practically all my waking moments with my amnesiac mentor._ “…busy, lately. Sorry.”

“I have heard you have a habit of apologizing for things that are not your fault,” the girl says, grinning. She shifts the tablet she’s holding into her left hand and holds out her right. “I am Shuri, princess of Wakanda. Pleasure to meet you.”

Peter shakes it, feeling an embarrassed flush race up his cheeks. “Wow. Uh, princess. I’m, uh, nice to meet you too?”

The princess laughs. “The formality is not necessary. Please just call me Shuri.”

“R-right. Shuri,” Peter repeats. He crouches down to scoop up the broken pieces of cookie off the floor and glances around instinctively for a trash can.

“There is a trash can in the break room,” Shuri says helpfully.

“Ah, thanks,” Peter says.

He heads into the break room; Shuri follows him. As he tosses the snickerdoodle into the trash can in the corner, Shuri asks, “Do you have siblings, Peter?”

“No,” he answers, turning around to face her.

“You are lucky, then,” she sighs, walking backwards towards the cookie tray. “My brother is such a pain. It’s like having two parents instead of one.”

Peter wonders if he should point out that most people have two parents instead of one. Before he can say anything, Shuri continues.

“He says I’ve been spending too much time in my lab and has locked me out of it,” she complains. “I am the head of Wakanda’s science and information exchange. We have aliens and superheroes staying in our palace. This is the perfect opportunity for us to exchange information with them, and yet he’s locked me out of the best place for me to do that!”

Peter perks up at that. “You have a lab?”

Shuri nods. “I have been analyzing some of the technology that the Guardians lent me, trying to reverse-engineer it. Some of it is difficult to understand, even for me.”

“Well, maybe me or Mr. Stark could take a look at it,” Peter offers. “He’s getting a little stir crazy from being stuck in bed all the time, I think. It’d be a good change of pace.”

She laughs. “Do you really think Tony Stark can crack a piece of alien technology that even I haven’t fully figured out?”

“Well…yeah,” Peter says, affronted. “Mr. Stark is a genius. He figured out _time travel_.”

“I am sure _I_ could have figured out time travel, had I been alive the past five years,” Shuri scoffs.

“He developed nanotech armor five years ago–”

“I developed a nanotech suit _seven_ years ago.”

“Okay, I get it! You’re a genius, too,” Peter says in exasperation. “But it could still help to have a fresh pair of eyes look at it, right?”

Shuri sighs. “You have a point,” she concedes. “But even so, I cannot let Stark work on it because it is in my lab, which my brother has banned me from entering. Which brings me back to my original point: brothers are the _worst_.”

“He hasn’t banned _me_ from entering your lab,” Peter comments.

Shuri’s eyes light up, and she grins. “You may be genius material after all, Peter Parker.”

* * *

“Is this it?” Peter asks, holding up the object he had taken from Shuri’s worktable. It’s small and cylindrical, and both tips glow with a soft blue light.

“That’s the one,” Shuri confirms. “It is similar to a tool I’ve created, but its inner workings are much different.”

“Awesome!” Peter grins. “Thanks so much for letting me take a look at it. And borrow your tools.” He holds up the toolbox in his other hand.

“Just do not break them, unless you want to pay for them,” Shuri says teasingly.

“Mr. Stark’s a billionaire,” Peter jokes back. “I think he can afford it.”

They head down the hall, away from Shuri’s lab. Peter walks with a skip in his step, excited at the prospect of working on tech with Mr. Stark again.

“Do you do this kind of thing with Stark often?” Shuri asks.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, we did, before…everything,” Peter says, waving the hand with the alien tool in it. “Not like, reverse-engineering alien tech, but, y’know. Taking stuff apart and putting it back together.”

“You two were close, then,” Shuri postulates.

Peter shrugs. “I guess? I mean, we weren’t strangers, obviously, but it’s not like we were best friends, either. We worked together on Spider-Man stuff, mostly. And sometimes general SI stuff. There was more of that after we made the internship official. He was like…my mentor.”

Shuri hums. “And what about now?”

“What _about_ now?”

“I have heard that Stark is still very stingy about who he allows to visit him. And yet that group includes you. You two must be closer now.”

Peter purses his lips. “Yeah, we are,” he says. He’d never thought about it that way before, but Shuri is right. “I’m, like, the closest thing to a familiar face he’s got, so I try to spend as much time with him as I can.”

Shuri looks puzzled for a moment before understanding flashes across her face. “Ah, you are the one whose voice he thought sounded familiar when he woke up.”

“Yeah.” A thought flashes across Peter’s mind like a lightning bolt. Shuri was one of the people who had done the tests on Mr. Stark’s brain, right? So maybe… “Do you have any idea why he vaguely remembers me when he doesn’t remember anyone else?”

“I came up with a few theories as soon as he mentioned it during testing,” Shuri replies. “Most of them were disproven when I saw the brain scans. It was not like Barnes, where his memories remained intact but were being suppressed. Stark’s memories are completely gone – he cannot recall them because there is nothing in his brain _to_ recall.”

Peter winces. “So then…how could he…?”

“He was in a coma for four days,” Shuri says. “Did you talk to him while he was in the coma?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, remembering how much he had rambled on while sitting at Mr. Stark’s bedside, “a lot.”

“Then, that may be your answer. Coma patients can still hear and process sounds around them, even if they cannot interact with their environment. If Stark kept hearing your voice while he was comatose, his brain would have begun to register the sound as familiar.”

“Oh. That makes sense,” Peter says. Then his eyes widen – there were a lot of things that he said while he was rambling that he never would have told Mr. Stark while he was awake. “Could – does that mean he remembers all the things I told him?”

“If he has not mentioned anything about it, I’d say it’s unlikely,” Shuri says, amused. “His brain was likely unable to fully understand everything you were saying, or if it did it could not create a memory of it.”

Peter exhales a sigh of relief. “Good.”

“Of course, that is only my theory,” she shrugs. “His recollection of you could also be a side effect of using the Infinity Stones. They are such mysterious, powerful objects. They can destroy memories and wipe away life…who knows what other things they are capable of?”

Peter blinks. He hasn’t thought about the Infinity Stones since he and Morgan accidentally crashed the Avengers meeting, which had only been a week and a half ago but feels like it took place in another lifetime – a lifetime where Mr. Stark’s memories were still intact. Could they have the power to preserve some of Mr. Stark’s memory of him?

Could they have the power to bring all of Mr. Stark’s memories back?

Ever since receiving the news that his mentor’s memories had been permanently erased, Peter had simply accepted it as fact. He never bothered to entertain the possibility of Mr. Stark’s memories coming back. For him, though, Mr. Stark having amnesia hasn’t been such a bad thing. Like Shuri observed, he and Mr. Stark have only grown closer because of it. Peter hasn’t wished for Mr. Stark’s memories to return since that first day.

If Mr. Stark’s memories did come back…he’d remember Mrs. Potts and Morgan, his family. He’d remember Happy and Colonel Rhodes, his best friends. He’d remember the Avengers, his team. Everyone would have him back, just like it used to be. It would all be well and good for them.

But where would that leave Peter?

Peter _likes_ the way Mr. Stark treats him now. He likes the way that Mr. Stark is comforted by his voice and his presence. He likes the way that Mr. Stark is openly affectionate with him, giving him hugs all the time despite being bedridden and letting him snuggle up next to him while they watch movies and TV together. He likes the way that Mr. Stark comforts him, worries about him, trusts him.

None of that would happen anymore if they go back to the way things used to be.

Regaining his old memories shouldn’t erase the new ones he had made with Peter, true. But what would happen if Mr. Stark remembered how he used to feel about Peter? What if he felt awkward being so nice to a kid that he didn’t actually care that much about? What if he got mad at Peter for not telling him about Spider-Man? He certainly wouldn’t need Peter to keep him company when he’d have his family for that. Peter doesn’t dare hope that Mr. Stark would keep treating him the same way – not if he remembers all the reasons why he treated Peter differently before he got amnesia.

Peter knows he’s being selfish. Dealing with the amnesia has been hard for the people that were really close to Mr. Stark, like Mrs. Potts and Colonel Rhodes, and they would be so happy if Mr. Stark got his memories back. But Peter’s happy now, and if he and Mr. Stark can get close despite the amnesia, then eventually everyone else can, too. Plus, it’s a long shot to think that the Infinity Stones can restore Mr. Stark’s memories just because they were responsible for erasing them. There’s no point in bringing up the possibility and getting everyone’s hopes up only to dash them when it turns out that the stones don’t have that ability.

_It’s nice_ , a quiet, traitorous part of Peter’s brain says, _being the most important person in Mr. Stark’s life._

So he keeps the thought to himself.

“It is probably for the best that the stones are going to be returned to the past,” Shuri finishes.

Peter makes a noncommittal noise to make it sound like he had actually been listening to Shuri and not lost in his own thoughts.

“If you could study the abilities of the Infinity Stones, what would you want to see if they can do?” Shuri asks.

Peter is saved from having to come up with an answer to that question that doesn’t involve restoring memories by a voice calling Shuri’s name. They both turn around to see that King T’Challa is striding down the hall towards them, and he looks furious.

“Hello, Brother,” Shuri calls cheerfully, waving her fingers at him. She turns to Peter and sighs. “I should go see what he is mad about this time. Have fun with that device, and do let me know if you are able to crack it.”

Shuri jogs down the hall to meet her brother, and Peter turns around and continues towards Mr. Stark’s room. But the idea that he had dismissed earlier still weighs heavily on his mind, making the prospect of getting to reverse-engineer alien technology with Mr. Stark seem less exciting than it did before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are wondering why Happy knows off the top of his head that Ned and MJ got snapped, here are my notes for the scrapped scene where he explains that:  
> \- Happy explains that it took Tony three weeks to get back to Earth so they didn’t know if Peter and Tony had survived the snap or not  
> \- He figured that, if they had, they’d want to know if their loved ones survived  
> \- That’s the only reason he looked into the status of May, Ned, and MJ  
> \- The only reason  
> \- His devastation when he found out that they’d all dusted was only because he knew how it would affect Peter  
> \- Nothing personal at all  
> \- When he found out Peter had been dusted he just had to carry that knowledge with him for five years  
> \- No big deal :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Or, come scream at me ([@mala-sadas](http://mala-sadas.tumblr.com)) on Tumblr.


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